What has the world done to you?
by ElectroKate
Summary: Pre-S10 demon!Dean has a run in with an ignorant Nephilim, & his demonic influence affects something within her, compelling her divine side to seek his redemption. But there is a price to pay for the knowledge of darkness. One-shot. R&R would be nice.


_One-shot during pre-S10 Demon!Dean. Read on..._

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><p>His entrance into the dingy bar did not go unnoticed; nor did his drinking habits.<p>

It was perhaps the most exciting thing to happen to the small, sleepy town of Fairfield in years. Of course, excitement did not necessarily mean good and in this case, it meant the exact opposite.

"Four shots of tequila, my good man," a gruff voice ordered from behind me. I rolled my eyes at the ignorant prick and turned, hand on my hip and head tilted.

"Three shots at a time per customer, that's the limit, _sir_." I put as much acid into my voice as I could muster, evidently coming up short as the man who sat before me grinned viciously as his eyes slid over to meet mine. There was a flicker of confusion as his mind registered my voice, obviously not matching the image of the man he'd assumed I was. A woman working in a bar, imagine that! Clearly he'd been surveying the room for potential conquests instead of paying attention to his order.

"Then three shots it is, _ma'am_." His voice dipped lower and he winked at me. I should have thrown the drinks I was pouring him in his face, however that would not be considered 'responsible' in my manager's eyes. So instead, I sucked it up and poured his shots, keeping the tequila bottle out due to his obvious want of more, but not within reach of this stranger's alcoholic hands; no freebies on my watch.

I turned around and busied myself with cleaning. I heard a chair dragged across the floor behind me, but ignored it in favour of turning the volume of the radio up.

"So what's a guy got to do to have some fun around here?"

I sighed.

"There are brochures over there." Without turning around I pointed towards the entrance of the bar at a rack of old magazines and pamphlets, letting all who entered know the many and varied exciting activities the town had to offer.

"And what would the lovely lady recommend?"

I finally turned around and threw the dish towel over my shoulder, sighing once again to show my distaste of him pestering me. "We have a lot of places for antiquing, you seem like the type. Feel free to leave me alone and go over there."

"Why would I do that, when I'm having so much fun over here?" He grinned once more, eyes alight and downed each of the shots, one after the other, not once tearing his eyes from mine. His chiseled face, artfully tousled brown hair and scorching green eyes was a giant warning sigh; and it screamed player. Clearly he'd have no trouble preying on the local women.

I poured three more shots when he flicked his hand to signal me, "Well don't let me stop you." I screwed the lid back on and placed it under the counter, before wandering off to gather glasses and plates of leftover food from the dinner rush.

Fairview was as unassuming as they came, so it was no surprise when I found myself with nothing much to do that night. The strange man sat at the bar, every now and then requesting another drink. Thankfully he switched to beer after his shots and was able to hold his liquor well; I wasn't in the mood to deal with another drunk patron. I was able to avoid talking to him and deflected his sleazy remarks with practiced ease, but by the time midnight rolled around, all the usual customers I'd busied myself chatting to had to leave. And then it was just me and him.

"I knew you'd see it my way eventually," the man winked once more as I returned to my position behind the bar.

"You wish," I snorted unattractively, giving him my best 'as if' glare before removing his empty glasses and beer bottles. "Closing time, buddy." I locked up the liquor and turned off the bar light, undoing my apron and placing it beneath the counter. When I'd finished, I looked up to see the man still watching me, having not moved an inch, simply observing my progress. "Now scram, before I get my shotgun."

The man widened his eyes and opened his mouth in mock horror, "Heaven forbid," he grinned and slid off the bar stool, revealing his impressive height compared to my five foot four build. As I examined him further, I noted nervously his muscular frame and large hands. If he so chose, he'd have no trouble overpowering me. My hands were built for mixing some damn fine drinks, but certainly not fighting.

I decided to wait him out, keeping my hand in my pocket, fiddling with my phone just in case. Nothing about this man particularly screamed danger, but his mannerisms and perpetual smirk set me on edge. There was a definite darkness about him, a haze that followed his every move and sat behind his green eyes as he watched me.

I followed him towards the door, keeping my distance, but as he reached the exit he halted and turned to face me. "You've got a nice set of wings," he commented distractedly, his eyes examining something behind me with curiosity. "Too small to fly with, but I bet you're agile." A wink accompanied his words.

I resisted the urge to scratch my head in confusion and instead rolled my eyes once more. "Is this the part where you ask me if it hurt when I fell from heaven? Bit of an overused line, don't you think?"

He smiled. "Oh no, you're not from Heaven."

"I don't think that's how the pick-up line is supposed to go. But don't waste your breath, this angel's not going anywhere near you, you're bad news." I looked pointedly at the door. "Out, now."

The man nodded and looked down at the floor, something on his face telling me there was more to this encounter to come, though I desperately hoped he would leave it at that. After a moment of terse silence, he looked up once more and took a stride towards me.

I fiddled with the buttons on my phone until I was sure I'd dialed 911, and backed up towards the bar. The man's progress didn't stop, but he wasn't in any rush either. I wasn't sure exactly what about him was so threatening; perhaps it was his physical build, or maybe the persistence he held onto. But I knew that I didn't trust the glint in his eyes or the feeling in my chest that I got. It churned my gut and I could tell he was dangerous.

I heard the low voice of the operator pick up the line and I pulled the phone from my pocket as quickly as I could, eager to let them know what was going on. Hopefully, the man would be frightened away at the threat of cops.

A flash of darkness, a cold hand pressed against my mouth and another prying the phone from my grip. Before I could react, both hands and the pressure I'd felt behind me disappeared. The man sat on the stool at the bar once more, my phone in his hand as he pressed the end call button and placed it on the counter.

I know I should have felt scared, I know I should have run or screamed or done anything except what I ended up doing. Instead of taking the smart route, I moved towards him. Something drew me inexorably across the room to sit beside him; his cold touch upon my face had ignited something foreign within me. It wiped away all sense of danger and obliterated my instincts to run. It wasn't unpleasant, far from it; it was deliciously satisfying. And that simultaneously terrified and excited me.

"What did you do to me?" I almost didn't recognise the low voice that left my mouth. My eyes searched the face of the man, looking for signs of a response in the moments that followed my question.

His eyes turned to watch me, his lip quirking up at the side at what he saw in my face. "Think of it as an awakening."

The words struck a chord within me. My parents had made it quite clear that I wasn't quite normal; it was hard not to notice. There were times when my strength and speed revealed the difference within me. Nephilim, they called me. Until then I had buried it, locking it up in a thick steel box and swallowing the key. My mouth burned where the man's hand had touched me; all of my defenses had dissolved to dust.

I searched the man's face; hard lines, strong jaw, plump lips curled into a smirk and stubble that roughed his otherwise perfect face. His eyes, pools of green, cut into my own and stripped me bare. Without thought, my hand reached towards his face and stroked his temple, ignoring his flinch.

"What are you?" I whispered, noting the darkness I'd seen earlier resting behind his eyes and threatening to spill forth. His darkness reached for me, teased me and drew out the part of me that wasn't human.

The man seemed to mull the question over thoughtfully, and his eyes flickered with something; it wasn't emotion, not quite, but some form of wistfulness. His mouth opened and he murmured one word with the gravity of an entire planet, "Death." As the word crossed his lips and entered the tense air between us, his pupils dilated and grew, the blackness consuming his eyes and reflecting my own face back at me.

I expected to recoil from his face, expected that I would run and scream from the creature that stared out at me. I could now see past his glorious façade and view the monster within, it's twisted, rotting form. Instead, my hand simply stroked his temple once more before I removed my hand, not unkindly. "You poor creature, what has the world done to you?"

My voice sounded older than I felt, more mature and wise. I couldn't pinpoint where the emotion was coming from; it certainly hadn't been there before this man had touched me. I felt the power and gravity within me as though it had been there all along, and it allowed me to see the truth, to feel the pain and suffering that this soul had been through. The evidence sat before me, not on the surface, but beneath the black eyes that regarded me warily. A wolf, beaten and broken by the forces that had attempted to tame it, now set loose in a world with no sense of self or preservation; pure destruction.

"The world has set me free," he replied, twisting his head away and glancing down at his calloused and scarred hands, turning them over and clenching them with white knuckles.

I don't know what possessed me to do it, perhaps it was a temporary bout of insanity, but my mouth formed the words before I could think; "Let me heal you." My hand reached forward and gently stroked his chin, beckoning his face towards mine. A soft white glow emanated as our skin touched, before fading. I leaned in, thumbing his bottom lip with my finger before looking into his eyes, watching as they returned to their original green. His hand followed mine, grasping my wrist and stroking my palm as he closed the gap between us, his lips pressed against my own.

We moved together in a slow rhythm, like molten lava, burning me up. His lips tasted of beer and tequila, and something more sensual that awakened my nerves and sent my mind into overdrive. Completely decimating my first impression of him, he was not demanding or rough but gentle and sweet. Our tongues eventually found each other, and I stroked his bottom lip lovingly, wanting to remove the darkness I felt from within him. I knew I could take it, ease his troubles and remove the chaos that no doubt swirled in his soul. I could feel him melting into the kiss, his arm circling my waist and pulling me closer. After an eternity, I pulled away.

"Dean," I drew the name from his mind, knowing implicitly, "let it go." Our foreheads were pressed together, his breath heavy on my cheek and his eyes closed for the moment.

Slowly, his eyes opened and gazed into mine, his pupils dilating once more so that the blackness overwhelmed them. "Too late," he murmured against my lips.

The pain of the blade as it slid into my back and sliced through my spine was nothing compared to the agony I felt at watching the twisted soul before me succumb to the darkness.

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><p><em>AN: Don't ask me where that came from, had a bad day and decided to write the somewhat depressing one-shot you see above. I was interested by the idea that Crowley and Dean spoke of, how Dean wasn't quite a demon, or the kind of demon we're used to seeing, but also was obviously not human. His interaction with the husband of the cheating wife and his compassion (or some perverted demon version of it) that he showed in sparing her and taking the husband, got me thinking about whether there was a chance of him redeeming himself without resorting to the 'cure'. _

_Anyway, hope you enjoyed. Review and let me know what you think :) I'm working on a series-length story but will be posting one-shots until I can wrap my head around the story line correctly and edit the drafts. Put me on author alert if you'd like to hear about what else I post! _


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